


of lost bonds and reconnecting.

by bulletdance



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Gen, Trans Male Character, mordred is trans and uses he/him pronounces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletdance/pseuds/bulletdance
Summary: In a way, this could be considered as a redemption, of sorts, for what they had done wrong.(Or, where each alternate versions of the King of Knights try to redeem themselves for the mistakes they had done, particularly towards their son.)





	1. Arturia Lily

**Author's Note:**

> these are going to be very self-indulgent and heavily headcanon based because type moon and delightworks won't give me the content i want
> 
> this was heavily inspired by ravenhead's Refricare Cicatricem, please give it a read if you haven't!

It was very sudden, to say the least. At first, all Mordred did was lounge at the recreational room, minding his own business and indulging the few moments where his father wasn’t in Chaldea.

 

(Originally, Ritsuka wanted to take him along as well to the quest. The moment that Mordred had been told that Arturia herself would be coming along, there was already a taste of displeasure in his mouth. He didn’t hesitate to decline her request and left immediately. Ritsuka didn’t bother to tell her to wait.)

 

So, lounging around was the only choice he had left when he heard Ritsuka depart with the Servants that she brought with. That was when Arturia Lily came into the room, her looks a mixture of exhaustion and excitement as she scanned through the room thoroughly. The moment her eyes landed on Mordred, she seemed to brighten more before she approached him (with not as much grace as his father had, of course) before she had told him she wanted his help.

 

 _Please, Morded! You’re the only one that can do this!_ , she had told him when he didn’t immediately voice his agreement. In the end, he gave up and followed Lily’s whims and followed behind her to wherever she was taking him to. Even though he wanted to be able to have at least some time with his father, really, this wasn’t exactly what he had imagined. Nevertheless, she was still her father, albeit an alternate version of him, so technically, he was getting what he was wishing for. The thought made him feel slightly happier compared to earlier.

  
When Lily stopped and entered the room, Mordred joined her immediately and was immediately taken aback. He was expecting something extravagant if Lily went as far as looking for him to ask for help but what he didn’t exactly expect was for her to bring him to the kitchen. Which had a lot of baking ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter that was _awfully_ messy (and that was coming from him!). When he turned to look at her, Lily had a sheepish look on her face and Mordred immediately knew what she wanted him to do. Of course he was the one who had to be the person to clean up the mess that she herself made.

(His father would always be the same, no matter what alternate self they may be. They’re all the same deep down----)

 

“I actually wanted to bake a pie with you!” Lily exclaimed cheerfully, looking back at him, which, one again, took Mordred completely by surprise. At this, he was already getting wary of her. There’s got to be a catch on this, isn’t there? All the versions of his father are the same, after all---

 

“You already know how to bake one by yourself, why would you want me to do it with you?” Mordred scoffed, scowling as he surveyed the mess on the counter. He didn’t see why she would need him here, unless if she wanted to make him some form of entertainment or be the victim of anything that she was going to pull out here. He doubted Lily could do even worse than the real one but he was already used to all the things he had to do, Mordred wouldn’t really care if he had to do something new.

 

“But I wanted to bake with _you_! I heard from the others that baking is much more fun when you do it with someone else, especially with your family!” At that, Mordred’s head immediately snapped towards her, disbelief at hearing what she had said. Right, this must be a dream because there was no way in hell that Arturia Pendragon (even if it was her younger self) would have wanted to deal with Mordred (especially with how much of a mess he is). Considering that he had nothing better to do, he decided he could humor her for a while until he was tired of this charade and leave her be on her own.

 

There was also the fact that he wanted to see just how far his father was willing to take this charade to.

 

“So? What kind of pie did you want to make?” He asked simply as he ignored her words before he felt Lily’s hands taking his hands into hers, her face radiating joy at the fact Mordred had indirectly agreed to spend his time with her. Her hands kept clenching and unclenching his several times and when he started to feel his palms becoming clammy and sweaty, he forcefully tugged them away from her (firm yet gentle) grip and making a short distance between them, not wanting to stand way too close to her.

 

(And if Lily noticed that, thankfully she chose not to mention it.)

 

“Well, I wanted to make an apple pie _together_!” At the emphasis on together, Mordred’s eyebrow rose. “Together, huh.” He made a mindless, passing remark as Lily nodded her head several times at the corner of his eyes while he made a noncommittal noise. “I still don’t get why you want me here, I’m not going to be that much of a help, you know.” He continued while Lily kept on searching for the utensils needed from the cabinets around as he observed her movements, which, held a sense of cheerfulness behind them as she moved gracefully (not as graceful as the real Arturia, but it was still there) until she found all that she needed.

 

“I’m not good at baking myself, actually and it’s always nice to have someone to do it together with.” Lily replied sheepishly, a faint dust of red apparent on her cheeks as she began to measure the ingredients to the amount that she wanted. “At first, I needed Master’s help a lot and she was really good at the kitchen but now, I can’t always trouble her with this.” A flash of sadness came through Lily before she continued. “Master has a lot on her plate, having to recover the Singularities and she also has to cater to the needs of the other Servants too so I can’t be too selfish, not when she already spends some of the free time she has watching me train.”

 

“So I’m just a replacement for her, I see.” He said callously, making his way to the table and using little effort to jump up a little so that he could sit and make himself comfortable on the table. Taking the package of flour into his hands, he turned it around as he inspected the packaging, his face hinting a look of knowing and slight disappointment as he minded his own business (and what was on his hand). Really, he should have known from the start that her words of wanting to have some ‘family activity’ were all just a cover of the truth. Honestly, what did he really expect? Did he expect this version of his father to be any different from the one he had known throughout his life?

 

(Nevertheless, it still hurt him a little, deep down.)

 

“No!” The loud outburst snapped Mordred out of his own thoughts as his head snapped towards Lily’s direction, who was staring at him with fierce determination in her looks. “Oh, um.” Finally realizing how she had shouted at her, Lily started to blush while fidgeting slightly from her unseemly manners. “I didn’t mean to shout at you like that, I’m sorry.” The way Lily casually apologized to him over something so trivial made something inside of him, deep down where his thoughts and emotions lied low snap and wanting to resurface all at once, making it overspilling----

 

The bag of flour exploded from the sheer force of his grip, making the popping sound loud enough that even Lily flinched from it as Mordred’s hands and clothes began to get covered in white from the substance. “Keep that apology to yourself _and_ to those who fucking care about it. I don’t need your apology _or_ pity.” Even without looking at his face, one would know Mordred was very offended just by hearing the tone of his voice. Again, who could have blamed him?, Mordred wondered as he glared at the younger version of his father. As if this was something so big that she needed to make her apologize over something so insignificant and meant nothing to him.

 

(As if he had never gone through worse than having his own father shout at him. As if that was even worse from the cold treatment he faced. As if that was even worse than being denied of the one thing he could have had. As if. As if. As if. As if. _As if. As if as if as if as if------_ )

 

“Like I said, the other Servants told me that--”

 

“Shut it, I’m leaving.” Mordred immediately cut off her words, not wanting to spare another second to listen to any more of her excuses. He immediately hopped down from his sitting spot before he made his way to the door. “Save it to someone who would listen next time----”

 

“I just wanted to spend some time with you and get to know you better.” Hearing her words made Mordred stop in his tracks as he stood there unmoving, as if he was waiting for whatever Lily wanted to say. Seeing this as a sign to go ahead, Lily continued. “I understand that you can’t trust me, or see me like how you view the other me, for what my other self did to you in the future, but…” Lily trailed off for a second and looked down, before she looked up to meet Mordred’s eyes. “Even so, you’re still my son. I may not know what will happen in the future but that notion will remain true, no matter what and I _will_ try to be the father that you wanted. It may not be the same since it’s coming from the me who knows nothing but I still hope I can try to fill in that role for you.”

 

Several moments of silence came to the kitchen as Mordred stood at his spot, making no indication that he was going to leave her alone. After what felt like several hours, finally Lily heard a loud sighing coming from him as Mordred brought his hand up to his hair and ruffling it with force “Alright, fine. I’ll bake those dumb pies with you.” Finally, he turned around and walked to where the ingredients were set on the table and began to pick one at random. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

 

In the end, Mordred stayed and followed whatever instructions Lily had explained him on what to do with the ingredients and how to handle the utensils properly. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean that they didn’t manage to make a bigger mess than earlier when the flour bag exploded but they still managed to make the apple pie Lily wanted to make earlier. If Lily had noticed that throughout the process that Mordred’s eyes looked like they were trying their hardest not to shed any tears and control the shaking of his shoulders, she once again opted not to mention any of it out loud. Instead, she distracted Mordred enough to the point that he started to become less tense as they continued on with what they were doing.

 

When the pie was done and Mordred had a taste of it (Lily had insisted that Mordred should be the one who has the first taste, for that it was a father’s job to let the child eat the food made or given before him, or so she had been told; which was why Mordred should be the one to have the privilege to taste it before she does), it was definitely the best pie that he had ever tasted. And if Mordred shed any tears while eating through it, it went unspoken by the both of them.


	2. Arthur Pendragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arthur's relationship with his mordred is 100% based on his my room lines when you have mordred so more self-indulgent headcanons!

One thing Arthur knew for certain was, no matter how different this world was from his, Mordred would still be Mordred by the end of the day. His time at Chaldea had made that apparent as he observed and (at least tried to) look out after him, even if the latter proved unfruitful. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t making any effort to spend time with him, it was the fact that Mordred tends to avoid him like the plague. He had figured that it wasn’t going to be smooth, considering the undeniable parallel of the past they had, but he didn’t expect it too be this bad.

 

What Arthur also noticed was, out of every alternate version of him, Mordred tended to favour Arturia Lily, even if he didn’t know the story behind so. In a way, it was expected, considering Lily was the version of him (or Arturia, in this case) that had not pulled out the sword yet and did not know what may transpire later. It would be easier for her to be able to connect with Mordred but that still made him wonder.

 

Did the female version of him had done something grievous to the point that Mordred held a grudge so strong until this day? Surely it wouldn't be any different from the one he had gone through in his own world. Whether that may be the truth or not, Arthur didn’t know and wouldn’t know and he needed to ascertain the truth himself before he could make any moves.

 

From there, he started to engage in conversations about Mordred to anyone who seemed like they were close with Mordred. It wasn’t exactly easy, considering Mordred doesn’t talk to a lot to the other Servants (rather, they tended to not associate with him-- which Arthur himself couldn’t fathom). The ones that get along easily with him had nothing they could really offer too as they apologized even though he didn’t mind nor blamed them. Then, he tried to at least ask the female versions of him but to no avail, they merely offered him silence and said that it was none of his concern and that he doesn’t need to know. When that gave him zero results, he then went to Ritsuka, who could only offer so much even with the help of Doctor Roman at explaining what had transpired with Mordred. Even though she apologized, which she didn’t even need to do so, he took off and tried to think about what he had been told. Nevertheless, it still didn’t really tell him as much as he wanted to know that it prompted Arthur to learn about Mordred by the person in question himself.

 

Seeing how he had run out of options at that point, Arthur tried to try approach Mordred more compared to before but they were all pointless. From what Ritsuka had told him, it was obvious that the scars that ran through Mordred was very deep and it was something that Arthur would never be able to understand, even if they were essentially not so different from the ones he too suffered during his time. Nevertheless, he never gave up even if he kept failing every day. It didn’t help that they were never doing the same task together, which made it even harder for him to approach. When he thought he had managed to finally corner him, Mordred immediately disappeared into spirit form, resolute in not wanting to engage in any sort of conversation with him.

 

After countless tries that failed each and every time,luck was finally on his side on this particular side, when Arthur had come across Mordred in the unoccupied room. When he had heard the door open, Mordred turned to look at who it was but the moment recognition and realization sank in, he immediately bolted up and tried to leave the room silently. Before he could do that however, Arthur had quickly moved to intercept him which left him standing right in front of Mordred (in a hopefully non-menacing way). Today was the day that he would be able to talk with this version of Mordred.

 

“Please stay, I’d like to talk with you for a while,” was Arthur’s simple request. At first, it was clear that Mordred wanted to immediately decline him but when he looked up to lock their eyes together, he froze. Perhaps there was something on his looks that made Mordred pause for several seconds before he grumbled his agreement to at least spend some of his time with him. Arthur must have looked really glad and happy that he had listened, if the red ears were a proof that he was embarrassed as he turned his body around so that his back faced Arthur now.

 

When they were comfortably situated on the soft cushions of the sofa (despite Mordred keeping a relatively large distance between them, scooting very close to the wall), Mordred’s body posture indicated that he was waiting for Arthur to start whatever he wanted to say to him. In a way, he also seemed like he was trying to defend himself, from what, Arthur could only presume any harsh criticism or insults that he would throw to him.

 

(The thought of that left a bitter taste on Arthur’s mouth. Does Mordred think really low of him? Does Mordred really consider him to be the same as other versions of him? Does Mordred think that Arthur viewed him as something so insignificant and unworthy of anything good that came from him? Just how much deep does Morded’s pain go through deep down, where he could never reach?)

 

“You know, the Mordred from my world always try to find the chance to spend his time with me,” Arthur began, choosing his words carefully in order not to receive any backlash that he wasn’t looking for from Mordred. When he took a quick glance, Mordred seemed to slightly relax, even if his scowl seemed to permanently be on his face at the moment.

 

“So what? You want me to be like the one you know?” He scoffed. “Yeah, how about you find someone else to trail behind you like a duckling? Not all of us can afford to feed someone’s ego all the time.” At that, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to even come up with a response. He knew whatever he said in response would only result more jabbing comments from Mordred and that was not the point of him wanting to talk with Mordred.

 

“I only wanted to share some of the things we did together.” After several moments of deliberate consideration, he finally came up with a response. “We also trained a lot together and whenever we weren’t king and knight, we did activities together. Sometimes we went hunting, other times we went fishing. Looking back, we did a lot of things together.” A melancholic look flashed on Arthur’s face as he continued on recalling back the happy times he spent together with his own Mordred. However, it didn’t last particularly long before the look disappeared.

 

“But then, we fought each other in the war.”

 

Surprisingly, Mordred was silent throughout all of this. Whether that was a good sign or not, Arthur couldn’t tell but he continued nevertheless. “You know, I actually wanted to give him my throne-- he was my son, after all-- but her influence was too strong on him. I hesitated in handing him his own birthright, because I knew with her on his side, Britain could have been in ruins immediately.” Arthur slowly exhaled, his eyes closed before he opened them slowly, revealing pain deep within those emerald irises. “Apparently my indecisiveness was obvious at that moment to the point he took it as a disapproving response and rebelled against me. The damage he did was devastating, to put it lightly. I told him to stop but he never listened, and I had no choice to strike him down. Even until this day, the memory of piercing him with my weapon is so vivid in my mind.” He stared into his own hands, even if they were clean of any dirt, in his mind, all he could see was blood, blood, _blood_ \--------

 

However, he immediately regained his composure as he clenched his open palms into fists, his nails digging deep enough that they could make the skin bleed if he applied more pressure. “This might mean nothing to you, but I really wanted to share the story to someone.” He added sheepishly while turning his gaze towards Mordred, wanting to gauge his reaction as he had been silent through all the story telling. He had expected a sarcastic reply (which Arthur couldn’t blame him, after all he had to go through in his own past) and a sneering look but what he saw was only a blank face. He couldn’t even gauge a single emotion from that look before he noticed how Mordred was struggling to find a response, his lips opening and closing with words stuck in his throat before he stood up with a flash of anger of his face, his body movement showing that he was on the offensive and that he wouldn’t hesitate to not hold back against Arthur. From there, Arthur already knew this was not going to be as easy as he had hoped.

 

“What the hell is the point of trying to tell me all this?! You want mercy? Pity? Empathy? Fuck you! You only ever think about your throne at the end!” Mordred lashed out, seething anger in his eyes apparent as he glared down at Arthur’s slightly hunched form. “I admired my own father but she barely bat an eye on me! She treated me as if I never fucking existed! She never acknowledged me, not even once! I did all I can to get recognition from the King! I did all I could to please her but what the hell did I get? Nothing! How the hell would that be the _same_ as what you’re feeling!” Unable to contain his own anger, Mordred punched the wall nearby, causing a moderate sized crack from the sheer amount of force he placed on his fist. “At least _your_ version of me had something in his life! Compared to me, I had nothing! I was given nothing at all until the day I fucking died!” After his outburst, Mordred breathed heavily, gulping as much as air as he possibly can, feeling as if he ran around the Britain and doing the ridiculous numbers of push ups Arturia ordered him to whenever he committed an atrocious act or made a mistake with the task given to him.

 

“I can’t say that I understand how you felt, especially when you and I experienced the same event in different circumstances.” After several minutes of waiting for Mordred to finally calm down, at least until he could listen to what Arthur had to say, he began. “But nevertheless, I wanted to tell you that you were not the only one who suffered, and that I acknowledge that you are and never will be my Mordred, but I still want to try my best to be the father that I _should_ have been. I don’t want to repeat the same mistake I did again. It may seem selfish of me to ask for that, but I would at least like to try and redeem myself with you, because in the end, you are still of my blood and that would never change. And…” he trailed off as he took a deep breath before continuing, “I also understand that my alternate selves had done countless immeasurable pain to you but at the very least, I want to try helping you heal from those scars you have. No matter what it takes and how long it does.” The resolute look he had when he declared his own feelings about this matter to Mordred while staring right into his eyes made Mordred felt compelled to look away.

 

“... Do whatever the hell you want.” Mordred reluctantly replied, as if he could say no when he look at those eyes that stared at him with radiant hope for someone like him, the Knight of Rebellion. Hearing the positive response had made Arthur let a soft smile, grateful as he visibly relaxed, eternally thankful to the fact that Mordred was willing to give him a chance to prove himself. Even if one day he meets his Mordred once again and would never gain his forgiveness, he still wanted to try and earn it. It was the least he could do until the day he finally gets the redemption he needed.


	3. Lancer Alter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have lancer alter yet i still don't know how to write her

_You can’t possibly understand_ , Lancer had said to Ritsuka when they had gotten closer with each other and in a way, that notion held true until now. Even if she wielded the holy spear, history can never be changed; when the time comes, she will be the one who pulls out the sacred sword in exchange of her spear. She knew it was inevitable; the path that she would follow, her actions and the ruin of Britain. Her role as the King of Knights would remain the same, even if there were alternate versions of herself. Nothing would change.

 

Yes, none of the mistakes and wrongs she had made as a King would change. To face someone who lives almost akin to the symbol of her biggest mistakes, it left Lancer into a silent turmoil and pondering. The looks she received from Mordred, in a way, felt like something she deserved to receive by the end of the day. It was of no surprise that she would be condemned and shunned by the man who lost his life in her own two hands, even if that seemed to be the only choice left for her.

 

However, it did not mean that they had never crossed paths with each other before. They sometimes do, and every time, Mordred averted his eyes and acted as if she wasn’t there and minding his own business. It was apparent that she wasn’t the only one who is receiving the cold shoulder as the other alternate versions of the King of Knights received the same treatment. Even as she noticed those details, she still did wonder what those two had accomplished to be able to reconnect with him. When she was summoned not long after he was, he had barely bat an eye on her direction and often acted like she didn’t exist.

 

(When she had approached Ritsuka about the matter, her Master had a troubling look before she look to her left and right, as if she was asserting the fact that no one else was there with the duo. When she was satisfied with her quick observation, Ritsuka had then prompted Lancer to lean closer so she could whisper to her. When Lancer obeyed, Ritsuka took a slow breath before she whispered,

 

“When he was summoned, the first one to greet him was King Arturia herself and well… he was really unstable for a while at that time. He’s fine now, but he usually avoids any versions of his father. After Lily made her effort to make him warm up, only then he got better, especially since he didn’t make a big _mess_ when he was with Arthur…” Afterwards, Ritsuka pulled away from Lancer with a nervous smile before she excused herself the moment she heard someone calling for her.)

 

Maybe _she_ was the one who did not understand.

 

(How foolish of her. There is no possible chance of someone with her caliber to make such a mistake.)

 

Nevertheless, being left alone and deep in her own thoughts, she had tried to search for the answer inside her heart but no matter how many times she had wasted in doing so, there was nothing that helps her dilemma (can this be considered as a dilemma, perhaps? Maybe lament would fit better). Even when she wanted to approach the other Servants, most tend to be intimidated by the aura she gives out to them while others refuse to associate closely with her (which, she couldn’t blame them for so).

 

Left to her own device, she dreams on the same sight, again and again.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later after countless quests that she went with her Master and then having the permission to let herself be on her own device in her own room, she heard the door sliding open. Even when she noticed the presence in her room, she let her eyes remain shut; not making any form of acknowledgement towards the other person inside here. Who would want to meet with her, at this time? As far as she recalled, it was past midnight, judging by the lack of loud chatters and noises from the other Servants that was usually so clear outside. She had only really left to get herself dinner and wandering around the halls alone, mind in deep thoughts as flashes of her memories and the dreams she experience play at the back of her mind. Only now those images are starting to get more vivid, as if she was standing there with her spear by her side and riding her trustworthy companion, obliterating those who stood in her path.

 

“Would you mind if I come in for a while, Lancer?” Ah, it was Ritsuka’s voice. When recognition sets in, she slowly opened her eyelids and began to rise up from her lying position on the bed before turning to face her. Ritsuka was already clad in her sleeping clothes, her hair down while her lips had a barely noticeable comforting and warm smile on them. Lancer nodded as Ritsuka took that as a sign that she could take a seat at the edge of Lancer’s bed. It didn’t take a lot of shuffling before Lancer was sitting beside her Master, albeit keeping a small distance between them as they sat in silence for the next several moments.

 

“Say, Lancer…” When she only received silence from Lancer, Ritsuka took it as a sign to continue. “Do you remember what happened during London? When you were summoned?” It was an odd question, especially as she had already restored the era a long time ago and the fact that there would be no point of asking her this now out of all times.

 

Even so, Lancer decided to humour her for a while, until she decided that enough is enough. “There are fragments of the time when I was summoned at the Clock Tower as well as our fight, but that was all that I remembered clearly.” She hadn’t exactly known the full details of the exact events that happened, but regardless, Ritsuka had taken the time to explain to her about what had transpired as to make her understand the circumstances. Lancer had taken the information provided to her with no questions and made a pledge to be her Servant in her quest to restore humanity.

 

“But I never really told you about some things.” At that, Lancer made an inquisitive hum while Ritsuka continued. “Mordred tried his hardest to protect London at that time, he did so many things for us. He even helped Mash to become stronger too,” Ritsuka had a nostalgic smile on her now as she reminisced on that particular memory while Lancer waited patiently for Ritsuka to finish with what she wanted to talk about.

 

“He really tried his best to protect London, even when he faced multiple adversaries. There was already poisonous fog around, and then there’s also those servants In the end, he never gave up, not even once and it’s all because he wanted to protect the land that his father had ruled and that he wouldn’t let anyone trample on it,” _well, aside from himself_ , but Ritsuka opted to keep the knowledge to herself. When there was no audible response, Ritsuka took a glance to gauge Lancer’s reaction but Lancer remained silent, her emotions unreadable no matter how hard she tried to read onto it. When the silence stretched on for several more minutes, Ritsuka stood up from where she was seated and turned around to face Lancer, who merely observed her movements with an indifferent look.

 

“I just wanted to tell you that, you can forget about it if you want to. Good night, Lancer.” Afterwards, she headed straight towards the door and waiting for a few more seconds when she stood right in front of it, as if she was waiting for Lancer’s last words before she took her leave. Having her departure greeted with silence, Ritsuka stepped out through the door when it slid open and before it closed, Ritsuka flashed another smile before the door shut her face out from her room.

 

Now left to her own again, Lancer slowly retreated back to lie down on the bed, her eyes staring blankly to the ceiling as she replayed the words Ritsuka had told her earlier.

 

_He really tried his best to protect London, even when he faced so many adversaries._

 

When she fell asleep, she fell into the same dream.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Lancer woke up at 6 a.m. as she usually does, feeling as if she went through another long dream; no matter how repetitive it gets, it always felt like it was the first time she saw the same dream. In the end, it would mean nothing when the day starts anew and the cycle repeats itself once again. She was used to this.

 

After she was done attending her personal business, she headed out from her room before making herself towards the kitchen in search of breakfast. Even if Servants don’t need to necessarily eat, she still found joy in being able to taste something new and exquisite (like any of her other selves, as she had learned from Ritsuka herself, when she had commented how Lancer’s appetite was the same as the other her). Not only that, it was quite easy to be able to ask for Emiya to cook something up for her whenever she has the urge to eat something at that moment, when both of them are not in need by their Master.

 

Expecting the kitchen to be scarce of Servants considering how early it was (except for the Archer in question), it came to her surprise to note that Emiya wasn’t there (though breakfast was done, which was a full course of dishes consisting of meat and salad; which some of them were dishes that she was familiar with), but the sight of Mordred being in the same place while eating his portion of breakfast.

 

When he saw Lancer at the door, it was obvious that Mordred was panicking at the moment despite being rooted to his seat, making no attempt to leave the room immediately. Looking around to see if there were any signs of any staffs or Servants and finding none, Lancer took calculative steps towards Mordred’s direction. She would be lying if she claimed that she hadn’t noticed that Mordred was getting jitterish as she took every step with the way she was gripping the fork in her hand. If that wasn’t enough proof, his body language seemed too stiff, as if any loud noise would make him try to escape from this situation.

 

Nevertheless, Lancer never faltered in her steps until she finally stood beside Mordred who was getting more jitterish the longer he was being stared at. Just because he was getting comfortable with both Lily and Arthur didn’t mean he was not going to feel restless around any other version of his father. Right now, Mordred would give anything to be able to take his leave from here, or have someone walk right through the door so that they would start talking to any of them, making this situation less tense.

 

Of course, luck wasn’t on his side today. No one was walking through the door (as if it was a deliberate move, because for sure someone’s already up by now, right?!) but his hope was crushed even more as seconds ticked by. In the end, he stopped hoping before he took a deep breath and tried to look up to meet his father’s face, only to be met with… her cleavage (which he had never remembered the father he used to know to have them and it was just, ridiculous, in many ways, in his opinion). While he was distracted in that split second because of how he was obviously taken aback by the new revelation of that fact, he felt a hand rested on top of his head. At this point, he was already fearing for the worst as he waited for his father to lay his verdict upon him. It was going to be horrible, when has it ever been something nice? This was still the King of Knights, his father, even if it wasn’t exactly the same as the original one. What difference would it make anyway? Bracing himself, he stood on his ground without shrugging the hand on his hair off.

 

“This may be late, however…” she began, yet Mordred didn’t know where this conversation was heading to. “I have been told you guarded my nation, no matter the formidable armies that stood in your way. Even that man who almost destroyed the foundation of humanity in that Singularity as well.” During the pause, he felt the hand began to pet his hair softly and gently, in a way that Mordred would have never expected the King of Knights would do. “And for that, I am grateful. Thank you for protecting it, when I could not,” _and would have ruined if you had not stopped me in my path of destroying it_ was left unsaid but known for both deep down, if both of their expressions said something about the unspoken matter. The ( _surprisingly gentle_ ) petting never ceased, even as Mordred’s face began to grow into brighter shades of red the more he was being given head pats like a little child who had done something he was entrusted with. In the end, it was inevitable, she supposed, when Mordred stood up from his seat with his arms flailing and a look of pure furious embarrassment on his face. A loud outburst followed after he stood up as he tried to look like he was angry with the childlike treatment but to no avail as he was trying to stop himself from looking way too proud after being acknowledge of his work by his own father.

 

“What the _hell_ ?! Don’t just say shit like that all of the sudden! And without any warning!” He crossed his arms across his chest, huffing out a loud breath (which was definitely a telltale of Mordred being embarrassed; that, Lancer can tell as much despite not exactly knowing him as well as she should have; Mordred was still of her blood in the end, even if she was merely a different version of the father he knew). “The only one who can do that kind of shit is me, not some random fucking weirdo trying to take over _my_ country.” Even if Lancer was supposed to feel some form of anger hearing those words, instead, there was none of the aforementioned emotion-- there was only the feeling of ease inside her. “You may try it as many times as you want, but I will do my utmost best to stop you every time. Thus, do not hesitate to come and face me in battle whenever you are ready to be defeated again.” The grin that she was met with from Mordred that screamed _I’m not the same person that you had known before and I’m not going to lose to_ you _!_ told her that things were going to become very interesting on this point afterwards.

 

(When Lancer fell asleep that night, for once, it was a dreamless sleep.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will be more sporadic due to the fact that i'm pursuing my degree now, thank you for understanding!

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to gabi (ephedilia) for proof reading and helping me a lot with writing this!


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